


Poison on My Mind

by burntotears



Series: Criminal Husbands [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Drunkenness, Fake AH Crew, Jealousy, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4450349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Michael wants to drink, something inevitably goes awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison on My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RT_Dee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RT_Dee/gifts).



> Prompt from tumblr: do you think you could write a jealous Michael or jealous Ryan fic with like, "don't touch my husband or I'll shoot you in the face" kind of thing? Thank you! ♥

Ryan didn’t know why he always agreed to come to the bar with Michael. He didn’t drink and he wasn’t a huge fan of being in a confined space with a bunch of drunken buffoons. At the same time, the thought of leaving Michael in the hands of someone like Gavin when he was plastered just didn’t appeal to him - he would much rather be there in person to circumvent any mishappenings that Michael might wiggle his way into. And if he was honest, Michael was pretty damn good at getting involved in something untoward when he was drunk. 

Right now Ryan was sat at the bar, watching his husband attempt to play a game of pool with very little sense left to his name. It was pretty funny to watch him fumble the stick; he’d already thrown it over the pool table on one of his attempted shots. Ryan had to hide his laughter under his hand as Michael looked up and glared at him from across the room. When Michael decided to use his hand to push one of the balls into the corner pocket, his opponents kicked him from the game and took his ten dollar bet as recompense for his stupidity.

Michael slinked (with graceless swagger) over to Ryan, grinning mischievously. He put his hands on either of Ryan’s thighs and stood between them, making an attempt to kiss him but he only managed to reach his chin. “Hey there. Come here often?” 

Ryan rolled his eyes, one hand resting on the back of Michael’s neck, a solid pressure to reassure him that Ryan was there, but also to make himself feel better about Michael’s unsteadiness. He rubbed his fingers through the hair at the nape of his husband’s neck and offered him a smirk. “Well y’know, gotta pick up dudes somewhere.”

Michael frowned at him. “This is like the trashiest bar ever, Rye, who would pick up guys in this place?” To be fair, it was a pretty shitty part of town, but it was a place where no one was going to look twice at them and see the criminals underneath the delighted holy matrimony.

“Well I picked you up, didn’t I? So I’d say it’s the best fuckin’ bar in town.” 

The cheesy sentiment was worth it to see that beautiful smile wash over Michael’s face. It’d taken Michael a while to get used to being complimented, but now (and more-so when he was drunk) when Ryan said something of that nature it made his entire face light up. “You’re a dork,” Michael cooed at him and this time Ryan leaned down so that they could kiss properly, tasting the alcohol that lingered on Michael’s lips. The scent of alcohol was strong on him, and on anyone else he’d find it revolting, but when he kissed Michael it didn’t even faze him. He was so far gone when it came to this man. 

Michael pulled away with a breathless gasp, grinning like a loon. “You gonna dance with me, stud?”

“Maybe later when I know you can stay upright the whole time. Dragging your dead weight around doesn’t make dancing all that fun.” He poked fun, his voice soft against Michael’s ear.

“So you don’t mind if I go dance then?” Michael had that glint in his eyes like he was up to no good, but Ryan wasn’t going to tell him not to do something, even if he knew Michael was trying to play games with him. 

“Go ahead. Show ‘em what you’re made of,” Ryan conceded easily, pushing Michael back a little so he wasn’t wedged between Ryan’s thighs anymore. 

That obviously hadn’t been the answer Michael wanted to hear; he huffed and squeezed Ryan’s thigh before turning and walking over to the other dancing bodies in the bar, shaking his ass excessively as he walked (and nearly falling over from it). Ryan sighed exasperatedly but never removed his gaze from his husband as he pushed his way through the other bodies and started dancing with a guy and a woman at the same time. Michael was obviously trying to rile Ryan up, but he wasn’t going to take the bait. He knew Michael wouldn’t touch anyone else and he also knew that Michael wouldn’t let anyone touch _him_ , even drunk as he was. Michael might make bad decisions while intoxicated, but that was definitely never one of them.

Ryan focused his attention on the movement of Michael’s hips rather than the people around him. He could spend hours watching Michael do just about anything and not get bored. As the songs changed and Michael got more invested in his movements, Ryan grew restless. He wanted his hands on Michael, but he knew if he gave in then he'd never hear the end of it.

Ryan started when he felt a hand land on his shoulder, eyes shooting up to look at the person sitting in the stool next to him. A man with bright green eyes and dark hair was touching him and Ryan had no idea who the hell he was. He leaned away from the touch, forcing the man’s hand to fall from his shoulder.

“You look lost in thought,” the man said, staring intently into Ryan’s eyes. It made him uncomfortable to be under the scrutiny. 

“I’m watching someone,” Ryan replied simply, looking back at the dance floor, only to find that Michael was nowhere to be seen. _Fuck._

“Is he gone?” the man asked, a smirk on his face. “That’s okay, I can keep you company.” He put his hand on Ryan’s thigh and things went downhill quickly from there.

Ryan looked back at the man just in time to see the barrel of a pistol press into the side of his neck as someone snatched him roughly from the barstool by the back of his hair. The man was about as tall as Ryan, so he didn’t see the shorter assailant until he’d pulled back on the man’s head, bending him at an awkward angle, until they were eye level with one another.

“What the hell!” the man screamed, arms waving in the air uselessly as Michael wedged the pistol into his jugular.

Michael had a cold, calculated look on his face as he twisted the man’s head to the side where he could look him in the eyes. “I could say the same thing,” Michael said darkly near the man’s ear. “I know you weren’t touching my husband, because no one would be fucking stupid enough to try something like that.”

“I-I didn’t know, dude!” the man protested, trying to wriggle out of Michael’s death grip and away from the gun.

“Oh, so you didn’t see the ring on his finger or how he was looking at nothing else but _me_? How fucking stupid do you think I am?” Michael’s eyes looked positively maniacal as he glanced between the man and Ryan. He offered his husband a wink before returning his attention to his prey.

“You’re fucking insane!” 

Michael laughed at that. “No _shit_ , Sherlock. I’m gonna kill your ass because you thought it’d be okay to touch my husband.”

Ryan knew he needed to stop this, but he couldn’t help being flattered at the sentiment. He spent so much of his time taking care of Michael that he forgot that Michael would do absolutely anything for him too. But he could praise Michael for his unwavering loyalty later; right now they needed to leave. The bartender had already called the cops and the faint sound of sirens was wailing in the distance.

“Sweetheart, we need to go,” Ryan said quietly near Michael’s ear, putting a hand over the brunette’s that was wrapped around the gun. 

“Go? But I haven’t killed this fucker for touching you,” Michael almost whined.

“I think we can let it go just this once,” Ryan replied, tugging the other man’s hand until Michael finally removed the gun barrel from his victim’s neck. His hand was still fisted into the dark locks and Ryan urged him to let go with a hand pressed firmly against his hip.

“You got fucking lucky, asshat,” Michael grunted at him, twisting the man’s hair painfully in his hand before he let go, allowing Ryan to lead him quickly toward the exit. They didn’t make it but maybe six feet before Michael turned around and aimed the gun, shooting the man in the foot. “But not _that_ lucky.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, hand firmly on Michael's elbow as he led him from the bar into the alleyway where the Adder was parked. He pushed Michael into the passenger's seat and fastened his seatbelt before diving into the driver's side and peeling out in a quick getaway. 

They came across one cop on the freeway who turned to follow them, but Ryan exited and lost him in a twist of alleys and backroads. 

“Sorry,” Michael hummed as he flicked aimlessly through radio stations. “I would’ve gotten there sooner but I kinda fell over on my way.” 

Michael was apologizing for not getting across the bar sooner, not because he’d threatened to kill someone. In any other relationship this would be cause for alarm, but Ryan just put his hand on Michael’s thigh and squeezed it. “It’s okay, I forgive your drunken clumsiness.”

Michael looked over and glared at him. “Why didn’t you deck him after the first time?”

Ryan actually hung his head slightly. “I was looking for _you_ , dick. I got worried when I couldn’t find you.”

“Oh, right.” Michael’s face softened. Ryan liked to keep an eye on him whenever he was drunk as shit, so he was probably nearing a heart attack when he realized Michael wasn’t there. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Ryan replied, pulling up outside one of the crew safehouses and cutting the engine. He helped Michael inside, his arm looped firmly around the other man’s waist.

When the door shut behind them, Michael was pawing at Ryan’s waistband and belt. “Lemme give you a blowjob,” Michael mumbled, mouthing against Ryan’s neck sloppily.

Ryan sighed and covered both of Michael’s hands with his own, gently tugging them away from his pants. “I’ll take a raincheck until you’re sober again.”

“But I wanna suck your dick now!” Michael whined childishly, making Ryan snort. 

Ryan leaned in close to Michael’s ear, still holding both of Michael’s wrists in his strong hands. He pitched his voice low and let his lips brush against the other man’s ear as he spoke. “How about you go to sleep and when you wake up I’ll let you fuck me into the mattress?”

The brunette groaned and twisted out of Ryan’s hold, staggering toward the bedroom. “I’m holding you to that promise!”

Ryan smirked as he entered the kitchen, grabbing Michael a glass of water before he went to put his husband to bed.


End file.
